Nightmares
by BlackFox12
Summary: Supernatural and My Bloody Valentine crossover. After the events of the film, Tom’s personality reasserts itself. He has no memory of what happened in Harmony, but starts having dreams in which people die – and when he wakes up, the people are really dead


**Nightmares**

**Chapter One**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from Supernatural or the film My Bloody Valentine and I'm not making any money from this fic. Any character you don't recognise from either of those fandoms, I probably own. Anything you recognise from another fandom, I don't own

**Summary:** Supernatural and My Bloody Valentine crossover. After the events of the film, Tom's personality reasserts itself. He has no memory of what happened in Harmony, but starts having dreams in which people die – and when he wakes up, the people have died in reality

**Warning(s):** Spoilers for the film My Bloody Valentine; spoilers for up to the first episode of season four of Supernatural; strong, bloody violence; spanking in later chapters; original characters

**Author's Note:** If you're anything like me, you'll get to a certain part in this particular fan fiction and go, 'Hey, wait... That's not realistic.' No, don't go away. I'm putting this note in to make it clear that there's a reason why something might not seem realistic. I know what I'm doing here, and I hope that you'll all see why eventually

* * *

Tom looked around the motel room in confusion. He was sitting on the bed, and his side burned. The last thing he remembered was crashing the car and then going out to find Sarah. After that, there was... nothing. He tried to remember what had happened, but nothing came to mind. Could it have been so horrible that he'd blocked the whole thing out? How was he going to find out anything for sure?

Standing up, Tom walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. When he saw that his shirt was covered in blood, he backed up a step, turned, and was violently sick into the toilet.

Finally finishing, Tom straightened up and wiped a hand shakily across his mouth. Not letting himself think about what he was doing, he pulled his shirt up and over his head, crumpled it into a ball, and – for lack of something better to do – he shoved it into the trashcan. And as he looked down at himself, he saw that there was a line of stitches running across his side. He carefully traced the marks with his fingertip, frowning as he tried to work out how he'd been hurt.

If Axel had been the one killing people, then maybe he'd wounded Tom. Did that mean Sarah was dead? And that Axel was still out there, pretending to be Harry?

The only way Tom could know anything for sure was if he were able to retrace his steps. But the motel didn't appear similar to him at all – it certainly wasn't the same place he'd stayed in when the first set of murders had occurred. Until he left the motel, he wouldn't be able to tell where he was right now. However, the only shirt he'd had with him was bloody. He supposed it was possible that, during his lost time, he'd had the forethought to get himself some more clothes.

But if he hadn't, then how was he supposed to get more clothes? Because he didn't have his wallet with him...

Finally, Tom walked through to the main room, and started looking through the drawers. He found clothes shoved inside, and frowned as he wondered just where they'd come from. He also found quite a bit of money in the drawer of the bedside table. He sat down slowly on the bed, and put his head in his hands.

None of this made any sense. Not to mention the fact that he hadn't been able to find his cell phone. Of course, if Axel was still alive, chances were that he'd find some way of tracking Tom through the signal generated by his cell phone. But he still didn't have any answers. And it seemed that he wasn't going to find any for quite some time.

Tom had heard of people blacking out – losing time – before. Some claimed that it was due to alien abduction; or some other nonsense like that. Tom's theory was that it was caused by stress. And that seemed to be a theory that was correct. Obviously, he was still able to function and buy the things he needed. It was just that his mind had disappeared temporarily in order to properly come to terms with what had happened.

He was guessing he probably wasn't in Harmony anymore.

Tom found a clean shirt, jeans, and some underwear, before slipping through to the bathroom again. He stripped off the rest of his clothes and threw them in the trashcan as well, before getting into the shower. When he began washing himself, his side started hurting even more; but he tried to ignore it in favour of getting clean. A small part of him thought that it probably wasn't a good idea to have a shower while he had stitches; but he was past caring.

After all, he was covered in blood and all kinds of other filth. Surely he must have gone to a hospital to get stitched up? Why hadn't he been forced to stay there? Why hadn't they called the police? Everything he was doing just raised even more questions.

When the pain from his side got almost too unbearable, Tom got out of the shower. A glance down revealed that the stitches were still in place – though the pain was bad enough to cause dark spots to appear in front of his eyes. He sank down onto the floor, fighting not to throw up again.

Tom wasn't sure how long he sat there for, but eventually, the pain receded enough for him to be able to get to his feet and dry himself with the towel hanging over the side of the bath. He headed back into the main room, and then slipped on the clothes he'd laid out. Fortunately, the shirt he'd picked out was loose enough that it wouldn't rub too much against the wound.

More forward planning... Just what had happened to him?

Tom ran his fingers through his hair, but didn't bother drying it. If he was going to look for answers, he'd better do it now, rather than put it off any longer. Another glance through the wardrobe turned up a jacket, and he slipped it on, before heading towards the motel door. He paused on reaching out to open it, noticing that the key had been left in the door. Didn't that make it harder for someone to pick the lock, or something?

After unlocking the door, Tom took the key out of the lock, opened the door, and stepped outside. After locking the door again, he slipped the key into his pocket and then stepped out into the corridor. Glancing from side to side, he noticed that the exit seemed to be at the far end of the left side of the corridor. Slowly – the pain wouldn't let him move any faster – Tom made his way towards the door, and slipped out into the motel lobby.

There was an elderly woman sitting at the desk, and she glanced up as Tom entered the lobby, nodding slightly to him. "Good morning, young man. Are you feeling any better? You seemed quite out of it yesterday."

"I'm fine," Tom answered after a brief hesitation. "Look, did anything appear on the news this morning? Anything strange?"

The woman thought about it for a moment, and then shook her head. "I haven't seen anything strange so far. Perhaps if you'd tell me what sort of thing you're looking for, I'd be able to help you more."

Tom shook his head. "It's all right. I'll check it out later." He took a slight breath and released it slowly. Briefly, he considered asking the name of the town he was in – but chances were that that would make him seem suspicious, and draw unwanted attention. It wasn't something that he'd really thought about before, but since the evidence pointed to Axel being the murderer, and he had access to a lot of resources... "I'll check in later," he added.

"Well, all right. You take care of yourself." The woman started flicking through her book that she had on the desk. "If you get back late, I'll have gone to bed. But you don't have to worry. My daughter will be around to let you in, if need be."

"Okay, great." Tom checked to make sure that he had the money with him, and then walked out of the front door and into the street.

It wasn't a town he recognised, which meant it made even less sense for him to be here. If he was running, then surely – even with his mind hiding – he'd have gone back to where he lived before; when he'd run away for the first time. Or maybe that would have been the first place Axel would have gone looking...

As Tom crossed the road, he couldn't help wondering just where he was going to start first. It wasn't like he had any ideas, other than find out if Sarah was still alive; and find out for sure if it was Axel who had been killing people. Apart from that? Well, he couldn't make any other plans right now.

Tom was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice the woman approaching from the opposite direction until he bumped into her and knocked her books to the ground.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!"

"Sorry." Tom bent down to help her pick up the books. "Are you all right? You're carrying a lot of things there. Need a hand with them?"

"No, I'm good, thanks." The woman stood up, clutching her books to her chest. "I have class to get to." She looked up at him from out of dark eyes, head tilted slightly to one side as she gave him a quick once-over. "But if you want to meet up for a coffee later, I'd like that very much."

"Maybe." Tom wasn't really sure he wanted to spend time with anyone right now, but perhaps she would help tell him what was going on. "Do you have a cell phone number?" He started to reach into his pocket, but remembered he didn't have anything other than that money with him. "And do you have a pen and some paper?"

The woman nodded, and dug around in her pocket for a few moments before she pulled out a slip of paper and a pencil. "My name's Emily," she said, as she wrote down her number. "I'm free for tomorrow and most of the next day." She handed him the piece of paper. "See you around?"

"I'm sure you will," Tom replied, pocketing the paper. "My name's Tom," he added. "You should get to class. I'm sure we'll meet again." As the woman walked away, he studied her briefly. His interest wasn't down only to the fact that Emily was attractive, and could possibly help him find out more information. Unlike him, she seemed to be relatively normal – and his whole world had been turned upside down.

Tom started to continue on his way, but stopped when he realised that he was beginning to get a migraine. Not only that, but the pain from the stitches was beginning to get even worse. Putting his hand against his side, Tom turned slightly and began making his way back to the motel.

* * *

The woman ran ahead of him, panting. Her scent filled his nose, creating a slightly heady feeling. Her fear excited him; almost turned him on.

He took his time following her. After all, they were moving through a dark forest. There was no one else around, and he'd managed to entice her away from any members of the public before he'd let her see what he truly was, and just how much power he had. Now, the pickaxe felt heavy in his grip – but it was a good, comfortable weight.

He was the predator here. She lived or died by his hand; by his choice. And now, it was only a matter of time.

He knew these woods extremely well, and it didn't take much effort to work out which way the woman was headed. This one had some kind of survival instinct; she was heading towards the nearest water source. It wouldn't help her, of course – but it was always interesting to see someone who had a bit of fighting spirit.

Now that he knew which way she was heading, he could take one of the shortcuts. It didn't take long for him to get to the lake from the opposite direction, and when the woman stepped into view, she paused, and stared at him in shock.

He didn't speak; but it took one single movement, and then he rammed the pickaxe through her chest, ripping it to the side and cutting her nearly in half as he did so. And as the woman collapsed, he knelt by her side and drew a symbol in the muddy ground with a fingertip, before picking up his weapon and then stepping away, leaving the bloody scene behind.

**End of Chapter One**


End file.
